


break my skin and drain me

by addtastic



Series: the awful edges where you end and I begin [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 03, fuck buddies, precious little emotionally constipated idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addtastic/pseuds/addtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the calm before the storm. A moment of repose before the other shoe drops, just like it always does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	break my skin and drain me

Everyone knew that Stilles talked a lot, even Stiles had to admit that his mouth moved faster than half of the track team. Most of the time he didn’t even think before he spoke, giving away more than he intended to. Word vomit and TMI moments plagued him in school, with his friends and even his dad. He blamed it on the ADHD and the Adderall but Stiles knew better. Nervously he chewed on his thumb nail, long since bitten to the quick, he tasted blood and frowned. The metallic taste that coated his tongue caused his eyes to flash red behind closed lids. So much blood; all over Lydia, all over the station, all over his face. The bruises that Gerard gave him still hadn’t healed all the way, leaving his cheek sensitive to the touch. A dull pain when he leaned it on his open palm, Stiles closed his eyes but did not pull back. The pain was something welcomed, it made him feel alive. It made him feel something other than fear or think about hypervigilance like the counselor told him. It was a cycle, a vicious, demented cycle that was on repeat in his head day in and day out. A song that played for weeks straight, buried deep in his brain. Not relenting, never ending and worst of all there was no one to tell about it. Everyone had their own things to work through. Scott had Alison, Lydia had Jackson, and Stiles? Well, Stiles had Derek.

Sometimes.

Big Bad Alpha Derek with his broody face and strong, silent type persona with skinny, hyperactive Stiles? It was shocking to him too. Nowhere in his wildest dreams did Stiles ever think that he would have a thing for Derek Hale, but he did. He did, despite everything that told him to run away and never look back. Part of Stiles knew that it it continued there was a big possibility of getting turned Or dying from some attack or the bite itself. That was what life had become nowadays, one big struggle between living and dying. Sure, some could argue that’s the basis of existence, a constant battle not to succumb to death, to live, to prosper. But why should it be? As a civilization, humans should be comfortable now. Since there was really no need to brave the elements or go out and kill your dinner with your bare hands. The world should be safe, but it wasn’t. It was a risk. Everything was a risk.

The air he breathed, the water he drank, Stiles knew that there could be something sinister lurking in every tiny thing. It didn’t matter what, there was always something. He mentioned it to Derek once. After. When Derek was sliding his jeans up over his hips. The room was silent, almost peaceful, apart from the noise of a zipper sliding home. “Do you think it’ll ever be safe?” Stiles asked, glancing in Derek’s general direction. Though he didn’t meet his eyes- didn’t even try really- he knew they flashed an unnatural color for the briefest of seconds.

“No.” Was the curt answer Stiles received, nothing more than a grunt really. Of course Derek wouldn’t sugar coat anything for Stiles’ sake, why should he? If anyone knew just how unsafe the world was it was Little Orphan Derek. The man was a walking proof of Murphy’s Law. With Derek, anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. And where for some it made them a better person, a stronger person, with Derek it just filled him with hate and anger and a diluted self worth. Stiles wasn’t a Shrink, he couldn’t dissect Derek’s life to pinpoint exactly when things turned to shit. He expected it was the fire, but maybe before that. He didn’t know. Derek wasn’t exactly Mr. Chatty when it came to feeling or the past. He didn’t talk about himself, kept it all in, hidden from anyone who wants to really get to know him. It’s a survival mechanism; keeping everyone at arms length. It made it that much easier when they turned up dead. And sooner or later, everyone he cared about ended up dead.

“Ever the optimist, Derek.” Stiles sighed sitting up . The sheets were a mess, covered with sweat and memories of rushed hands on hot skin. Fevered kisses pressed hard into spit lips and bruised ribs. They never spoke about it, never made a comment on the way Derek would all but collapse on top of Stiles, elongated finger nails sinking into the tender juncture where hip meets thigh. Not a word passed between them when Derek’s forehead would rest of Stiles’ shoulder blade, hot breath teaching itself how to be even once more. What could they possibly say? _‘Thanks for making me forget for a while’?_ No. It was like pulling teeth to get Derek to talk about anything in the first place, there was no way Stiles would going to try and get actual insight.

“Shut up.” 

Derek’s shirt was on now, pulling it roughly over his shoulders. Stiles liked that shirt on Derek, not that he would say. Once upon a time it used to be Stiles’, but that felt like a forever ago. Before the Kanima, before getting kidnapped. When all Stiles had to worry about was Scott and the Alpha and protecting his best friend. Things were much more complicated now. More variants were added daily it seemed. More people to worry about, more Alphas, more threats. Just more- stress. And bruises and pain and worry.

Stiles stood, pulling on his boxers that had landed on the nightstand when they had been tossed away and walked to the window. It was a habit now, to check the locks, though if the creatures they normally dealt with wanted in, a small lock and a thin pane of glass would hardly be enough to stop them. Stiles watched Derek’s reflection in the glass, he didn’t stop dressing, didn’t even look over at Stiles to see what he was doing.

Derek didn’t care. He didn’t let himself. He didn’t trust anyone enough and that would ultimately be his downfall. Trust was how packs worked. The sense of family, of allegiance, it held everything together. There was more to being an Alpha than turning a bunch of kids with the overwhelming need to be loved and accepted and expecting everything to go fine and dandy. There were moments though, moments that Stiles never got to see, where Derek actually made progress. Especially with Isaac. Little moments that passed between them that didn’t look like much to anyone with actual people skills, but they were there. A comforting hand on a shoulder or a just a simple nod as if to say, ‘you did good.’

He couldn’t be that way with Stiles. It didn’t feel right to him. He didn’t know what he felt and any sort of acknowledgement would feel like admittance that whatever they had was more than just instant gratification. Stiles was the same way. Both he and Derek took a comfort in knowing that the likelihood of the other bringing up feelings was slim to none. They would fuck from time to time, so? They weren’t dating. They were just warm bodies. Still, there were occasions where it bubbled to the surface. Like when Derek didn’t jump out of Stiles’ bed like it was on fire, they both just lay there, breathing as their heart rates returned to normal. Stiles knew better that to touch Derek first. Not since Derek had all but threatened him with broken fingers. It was a strange concept that Derek could touch- he could reach out his hand to comfort- but would not allow anyone else to do the same. He would recoil, bear his teeth and sink even lower into the thick, suffocating isolation he inflicts on himself as punishment.

To Stiles it started to make sense; Derek did not want comfort. He didn’t want to feel any relief from the pain and loss he constantly felt over the tragedy his family suffered. There was a deep rooted blame that constantly burned under the surface of Derek’s skin that told him he didn’t deserve happiness, he didn’t deserve a life when he had inadvertently ended so many. Misplaced blame and self loathing was Derek’s life now. Yes, he tried to make things right by making his own pack; taking kids that needed family. Kids that needed saving. But how could Derek possibly be their savior? After years of living solely off of anger there was no way he could be the family they craved. Proof of that came with Erica and Boyd choosing to search out a new pack rather than stay with him any longer.

“You don’t have to leave.” Stiles’ voice was small, the way it gets when he is saying something that Derek already knows and chooses to ignore. It takes a lot for Stiles to say it out loud even though he has been thinking it since Derek soundlessly climbed in through his window. Somewhere in his brain, more words were threatening to spill. Words were such a huge part of Stiles, it was hard to keep them contained in fear of making an already awkward situation that much more awkward. Hell, he even talked in his sleep. It was a new level of self control that kept Stiles from falling to the floor in a dramatically grand fashion and telling Derek that he can't deal with being alone right now as he growled at his biker boots. Which were being pulled on dispute Stiles statement. He turned to see Derek pulling his arms into his jacket, his expression unreadable, almost like he hadn't heard him at all. Werewolf hearing meant that Stiles could have said it in the basement and Derek would have heard him, it meant he just didn't want to give an answer.

That hurt Stiles more than he thought it would.

Not that it surprised him to be ignored, it happened more often than not. But Derek was sure as shit not ignoring him no less than twenty minutes ago when his cock had been buried so deep in Stiles that it was like they were the one person. Or when he was placing a trail of filthy open-mouthed kisses down Stiles’ chest, not stopping until his lips wrapped around the head of Stiles’ dick. Maybe Stiles should have asked him to stay then when he was preoccupied with other things. Next time he’d give it a go. What could it hurt? It’s not like Derek would simply walk out whilst they were having sex or so Stiles’ believed, but with Derek, he could never be too sure about anything.

Stiles couldn’t convince Derek to stay any more than Stiles could force himself to ask again. The more he thought on it the more he realized that this was all there was and all there was going to be. Half the time Stiles didn’t even know if he and Derek were friends. He didn’t know if this...thing went as deep as that. There was no trust. There was definitely no love. That is what friendship was built off of right? Trust and love. What they had was just relief. Smack in the middle of something that meant nothing now, but if they let it, could mean everything. Everything for two lonely boys who had to grow up too fast. Who had suffered loss and still felt the repercussions. The cold emptiness that clawed it’s way into the pit of their stomachs; a void that would never be filled.

Stiles crossed his arms tightly over his chest, a dull ache setting in at the inevitable solitude that he would have to endure once Derek left. He would do as he always had done. It was practically down to a science now; strip the bed, take a shower, make the bed and try to sleep. Stiles realized that sleeping apparently was a privilege, not a right. Very rarely did he get that privilege. He wondered if Derek had the same problem. If Derek was kept up by the constant weight of the world and of his actions. Did he wish for sleep or pray for it like Stiles? Or did he just bury his face into his pillow and drift off.

"Derek-"

"Don't." Derek's said flatly leaving no room for Stiles to continue with his sentence. Derek stalked closer to the window, avoiding even looking in Stiles' direction. Roughly he pushed open the lock and raised the glass. The cool night air blew in, hitting Stiles in the face with the smell of wet pavement -when did it rain?- mixed with the faint smell of leather from Derek's jacket. Stiles didn’t want him to leave. He wanted Derek to stay. If he stayed he might feel safer. It might help to know that he isn’t alone for a few hours. He might be able to sleep with a body next to his. But half of Derek’s body already was out of the window before he turned his head to look back at Stiles, not saying anything, just giving a nod of acknowledgement, before he was out of sight taking any hope of a decent nights rest with him.

Minutes passed before Stiles closed and locked the window once more. He had hoped that Derek would come back, take him up on his offer and stay the night. Chuckling darkly, he pulled the blinds closed, rubbing his hand over his hair. What good was there to hope, he wondered, what did hope ever lead to apart from disappointment. Derek knew better than to hope, it was a concept that he had given up a long time ago. Stiles would do good to take a page from his book. But as he began to tug the sheets from his beg, sending the smell of Derek and sex about the room, Stiles couldn’t abandon his hope that there’s got to be something better than in the middle. There had to be more than this for them. And maybe if they both survived the dangers of this odd, fucked up, supernatural life, maybe they could find that they were more than just a relief. They were salvation.

Stiles dropped his shorts into the hamper along with his sheets and stepped into his bathroom with his mind spinning with possibilities of what if. Even if it was pointless to think of anything past the night in fear of something big and bad coming for him. A pang of sadness told him that it was equally as pointless to think that Derek would give a shit about him in any capacity other that a quicky here and there. That whole no trust thing once more pushing in and making itself known.

He didn’t know that Derek was sat in his car, mind full with the same worries as Stiles, parked a block away from Stiles’ house.

Just like every other time he left, Derek never managed to get too far.


End file.
